User:Thinslayer/Thinslayer's Short Stories (fanfiction)

Lockdown Cheaters

Jamie boosted behind him and stabbed him with her flourish. He went down with an angry sigh of disgust. The announcer gleefully exclaimed, "Score! Deathsin has been defeated by Jamie using a Final Flourish!" The crowd went wild. But Jamie couldn't listen to it, because at that moment a Nameless recon had taken a potshot at her. She winced as it went through her Fallen raiment and retaliated with a flurry of Sentenza rounds. The recon cloaked, ducked under her fire, and threw her a surprise blast bomb. She couldn't dodge it in time, and was thrown against the wall in the blast. With only three pips of health left, she would have been an easy kill if the recon had been patient, but he instead rushed at her, and ran straight into her flourish charge. "Score! Lamenoob has been defeated by Jamie using a Final Flourish!"

She boosted back to base, swapped out her current loadout for one with a Sudaruska and Callahan, and took the recon module. Just then, she got stabbed in the back three times and fell, defeated. "Score! Jamie has been defeated by Warmonger using a Final Flourish!" Wait, what? How did he get behind the energy barrier? The round ended, and her team headed back to base, broken and dejected at their loss.

"Dude, I didn't even see the guy boost up to me," exclaimed Joe-The-Girl. She threw down her helmet and stomped on it. "I swear, these nutjobs are cheating!!" Dimaggio had to agree. "Sumthin' ain't right about all this, it's true. Ah think they've hacked the game. Ah saw our Jamie get a whippin' behind the gate." There were sighs of amazement and disgust throughout the team. Jamie just cleaned her weapons. She said quietly, "There's nothing we can do about it besides quit, which is what they want us to do." Dimaggio objected, "But they also want us to keep playing! We are in a lose-lose situation!" Jamie grimaced. "Then we'll just have to find a way to win, won't we?" The team fell silent. She put away her flourish and began to clean her Suda. "Look, we need to work together, guys. If they keep splitting us apart, we will all be killed off one by one. Since they've undoubtedly found a way to hack through the Guardian field, our guardians will have to rely on their Venom Veilers and Gran Fausts." The next match was ready, and everyone took their places. Jamie found herself standing next to the enemy team leader, Peter-Seller. He grinned menacingly at Jamie and said, "You losers don't stand a chance." Jamie retorted, "Oh yeah? Well I happen to be standing next to some cheating cowards!" The enemy team just laughed her off. Deep down, she knew they'd lose again.

The match started off badly. Jamie had tried to deathmark Deathsin, but he somehow knew where she was and killed her with a Polaris spam. Joe tried haze bombing with her Veiler, but Dimaggio and Not-Jim-Dale abandoned her for some kills and left her to die by Lamenoob's Gran Faust. Soon, the opposing team had capped all the control points and began spawn-camping within Jamie's base, behind the barrier. The team lost the match...again.

Nobody was feeling very good. After some silence, Jamie said, "Look guys, I'm really sorry about all this. It's hard to fight cheaters. But we need to stop abandoning each other, and instead work together. They're coming at us one by one, and can't win if we all stick together and have each others' backs." Dimaggio hung his head in shame, and Joe wiped away a frustrated tear. Not-Jim-Dale said, "I'll go capping next round. Anyone object?" Nobody said anything, so he just took it that they were fine with his suggestion.

The next round was different from the others. Dimaggio and Jamie stuck by Joe's side, with Jamie deathmarking any oncoming opponents and Dimaggio boost-dancing around them with nigh-impunity, and while the enemy was distracted with this new and frustrating team, Not-Jim covertly recaptured the map's control points, immediately abandoning them when they became contested. Jamie even got the immense satisfaction of being able to Suda-smash the enemy leader.

When the match ended, the team went from upbeat to elated when they realized that they had won a bombhead mask. The announcer declared, "Blue team has won a Spiral Bombhead Mask! Congratulations!" Jamie hugged Dimaggio, who was both surprised and flattered, and returned the favor. Joe-The-Girl and Not-Jim-Dale shook hands. But the enemy team, the Red team, hung their heads, confused and saddened at their failure and loss of the bombhead for which they worked so hard to get, albeit illegally. It began to dawn on Jamie that the bombhead might be the reason they were cheating. She walked up to Peter-Seller and offered him her bombhead. She had desperately wanted it for so long, but now that she had it, it didn't matter as much to her. Peter wiped his eyes and looked up to see her generous offer, and gave her a confused look. Jamie said simply, "It doesn't matter to me. You can have it." Peter gratefully took it and forced a smile. He stuttered out, "Th-thanks" and put on the mask. He was elated that he looked so impressive in it. The rest of Jamie's team saw her generous act and, after a short period of reluctance, followed suit.

Blue team quit the game and went home, satisfied that they had won a match against the cheating team, and satisfied that they had finally learned to work together. Red team went home elated at having finally gotten a bombhead mask. Ever since, they fought in Lockdown without cheating ever again. As for Jamie's team? They went their separate ways, never coming together in Lockdown again, but remaining good friends for the rest of their days.

The End.

Valentine's Day

"I'll bet you don't have a higher card."

• shows a higher card*

"Darn it!" "Heh heh! You lose! Gimme all your moneyz." "You suck, you know that?" "Yup. Hand it over."

Two old guys were playing Gambit in the Haven Bar. The guy in the red shirt had just lost the match to the guy in the blue shirt, and were preparing for another round. Several bar patrons were trying unsuccessfully to convince the bartender to give them alcoholic drinks; they were too small to properly hold their liquor. A small gang of thugs occupied a table in the corner, whispering among themselves quietly about stuff you and I wouldn't want to hear about.

Just then, the bar doors slammed open, and the thunder cracked. In the entryway stood a mysterious figure wearing a Violet Rose Chapeau and Angelic Raiment. Silence fell over the room as the figure sat on a barstool next to a very burly-looking knight. It spoke to the bartender in a sweet feminine voice, "Gimme a milk, will ya? The name's Valentine." The burly knight next to her chortled. "A milk!? Well now, ain't that appropriate comin' from a woman?" His comment drew rolls of laughter from the room. The girl tilted her head and looked at him from the corner of her eye. "That's pretty smart, comin' from a mama's boy." The room once again burst out into laughter, and the knight's face went red. "You itchin' for a fight, ya lil' pipsqueak?" She gulped down her milk. He could just see a smirk grow on her face. "Maybe. Think a guy as fat as you could handle that?"

Enraged, he threw an ill-timed punch at her. She ducked and chuckled. "My my, touch-ee! Did I hit your lil' boo-boo?" He threw another punch, which she caught and used to throw him off his stool. He crashed to the floor, and a couple patrons helped him back up. "You see this here girlie? She can't beat a tough guy like me! Girls don't beat guys! Ain't that right?" Cheers erupted from the surrounding patrons. "I'll bet she can't even tickle me!" But the girl just smiled and curtsied. "I'll bet your bottom dollar I'll have you all in a dog pile by the crack o' dawn." This time, the room erupted into hearty cheers, jeers, and laughter. Several patrons stood up, wanting to take on the challenge.

The old guy in the red shirt quipped, "I'm gonna put my bets on her." The old guy in the blue shirt replied, "You're an idiot. My bets'r on everybody else."

The first patron to challenge her brandished an empty bottle and swung it at her. She caught it, wrenched it out of his hand, and hit him over the head with it. He collapsed, and five others tried to get at her. But they kept getting in each others' way, and a couple of them accidentally hit each other in the jaws and fell backwards. Valentine jumped over them, danced on their heads, and tackled two of them to the floor at once. She bopped both of them over the head with her fists, then leapt over to the bar and grabbed another bottle.

She took a swig of it as another patron tried to kick her. She sidestepped it, took another swig, then ripped off his boot and tickled his foot. He topped backwards into a stream of feisty patrons, knocking them over like dominos. She chugged down the bottle and threw it at the bartender, intentionally "missing" him and striking the gang leader instead.

The old red-shirt whispered, "Uh oh, I feel sorry for the gang members." The old blue-shirt replied, "They got 'er for shore!"

Silence fell over the bar as the gang looked at their unconscious leader, rolled up their sleeves, and advanced on Valentine. She backed away, pretending to be worried. "Eh...ha ha...uh...did I miss? I'm so...so...terribly sorry..." she said as she felt behind her for a chair. She grabbed it and heaved it over her head at the lead gang member. It hit him squarely on the head, and he spun around dizzily before toppling over. The rest of the gang stopped, looked at each other, then charged at her. They grabbed Valentine and held her down so the others could pummel her. She absorbed a couple punches in the gut before kicking off the offenders and wresting her arms from her captors. She ducked and rolled under several more ill-aimed punches and jump-kicked the lot of them into a nearby table.

Then the bartender drew a gun. "Enough!" he shouted. The remaining gang members drew their guns, too. Valentine withdrew her Cryotech Alchemer from her pack. One of the gang members jeered, "Whatcha gonna do, turn me into an icicle with that thing?" Valentine winked at him. "Nope, I'm gonna freeze yer arse off." She shot at him and missed. The man guffawed. "Ha ha! You mis- YOWWW!!" he screamed as the ricochet hit him in the butt.

Several more patrons tried to surround her. She jumped up, twirled, and kicked them all in their noses. That ended the barfight. By now, every one of the patrons was sprawling on the floor, nursing their sore noses, rear-ends, and groins. Valentine stacked them all up into a pile, climbed to the top on their heads, and sat down. She pulled out her pipe, lit her match on the sole of a patron's shoe, and lit her pipe with it.

"I win this time!" exclaimed the old red-shirt. "How...but...why...that's not possible!" stammered the blue-shirt. "Gimme your money now." "No. That wasn't a fair fight." "Exactly - it wasn't fair for the girlie. I called it, didn't I?" "You...you...okay! Go ahead, take it! Get outta my sight!" "Be glad to! See ya tomorrow?" "...grrr, okay."

Sirens whistled in the distance, and soon, Spiral Justifiers had swarmed all over the bar. Valentine got off the pile, saluted the officers, and gleefully extended her arms to be arrested. The detective looked at her curiously. "Ha! Am I supposed to believe you're to blame for all this?" Valentine nodded. "Yup! Go ahead and arrest me, officer! I'm guilty as charged." The detective glanced at the stunned bartender, who slowly nodded as well. After some careful consideration, the detective decided to let Valentine go. "Y'know, that was kinda impressive. But don't do that kinda thing again, 'kay? I'm lettin' ya off with a warnin'." Valentine nodded eagerly. She took a few more puffs of her pipe and strolled off into the sunset.

All in a day's work.

The Lovers' Duel

"Your time is near, Channeler." Words that are not mine are uttered through my mouth. My love draws his pale rapier and points it at me. No words can describe how it feels to be forced to slay the one you love, nor how the heart of the loved one aches for his wayward kin.

My hand twirls my Furious Flameberge menacingly, and my body takes an offensive stance. It holds the blade above my head and points it at my love. He steps to the side and points his blade at me, taking a defensive stance.

We open with a quick horizontal cut, and he vertically blocks it. We step forward and swing overhead, to which he responds with a backstep and another block. We rotate the blade and undercut, forcing him to rotate his own blade to match. My body presses against the blade, this mind frustrated at his resistance. Over my objections, my body takes the fight to a new level: it spreads my wings and steps back.

With newfound speed, we dart at my love and attempt to run him through. Thankfully, he simply sidesteps it and and pushes us away with a telekinetic movement. But I had underestimated the intelligence of the controlling mind; we whip around and slice him across the back. It is a minor cut, but it hurts him nonetheless.

We twirl and slash at him, meeting his sturdy shield, then flip over him and thrust. Again, the attack meets his shield, throwing my body off balance. He swings at me, aiming for my legs, but we block low and kick him in the shin. He collapses to the ground, and we pin him with my legs and grip his neck with my free hand.

We touch the tip of my blade to his neck.

I touch the tip of my blade to his neck.

I cannot slay you, my love.

Adventures of Dezna, Hunter of the Undead

<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/thinslayer/8677195874/">Welcome!</a>

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Darn it!! Why does this dratted piece of junk keep deleting my journals!?

Oh well. It's not like I really cared about them anyways. This journal entry records the events that led to the loss of my dearest husband, Jimm. If you're wondering how I can handle writing about such a tender subject, don't worry - my subsequent experiences have left me sufficiently jaded that I have lost nearly all emotional faculties. ______

"Kat got yer tongue, Dezna?"

I never could decide whether I loved or hated it when he said that. I think he did it to tease me. "No, I'm just amazed at how good you are at your job." He chortled and blasted away another zombie with a well-placed Mega Magnus shot. "Why thank you, darling! Yes, I am good at my job." He shot and stunned another one, which I finished off with a Cold Iron Carver charge. "You're supposed to return the compliment dearest," I scolded him. "Oh...okay, I guess you're good at your job too," he said, pretending to relent.

The Deconstruction Zone had become infested with Carnavons, so we took it upon ourselves to clean out the place. Those guys were annoying, but nothing we couldn't handle. I lunged at the nearest group, gutted them, and wiped their smug faces off with a single stroke of my sword. I kicked them away and bashed another one in the face. Surprisingly, that took its head clean off. Maybe I'm just that strong.

With most of the Carnavons in the area dispatched, we put away our weapons and studied our surroundings a little more closely. The Decon Zone had the usual amenities, including gated hordes of angry gremlins, fine treasures, and the occasional unpowered mecha knight. I spotted an odd purple glow from the corner of my eye, and ventured over for a closer look.

It was a fiendish magic circle, with a Grim Totem in the middle. What kind of ritual would require a totem? Then it hit me - how else could the zombs have gotten here? They don't normally wander in Decon Zones. It must have been some kind of teleportation-revival ritual, since only Ultimate Firestorm Citadel houses Carnavons.

Suddenly, Jimm cried out, and I spun around with my sword in hand. A vast Cursed Dreadnaught charged straight at me. I instinctively raised my Stone Tortoise, and the Dreadnaught tripped and flew over me. I love this shield. I quickly charged my sword and tore into the monster's back. Jimm began charging his Strike Needle, so I ran around to rotate the Dreadnaught so he could get a clear shot.

A torrent of needles ripped it apart, and it fell to the ground, dead once more. I decided not to sheath my sword just yet, if there were going to be more surprises like that. "That was...interesting. Why didn't we see that thing earlier?" Jimm rubbed his chin, took out his pipe and sat down. I sat down beside him and popped open my bottle of gin. I took a swig just as he began to speak and missed the first few words. "Say what?" He puffed again and said quietly, "I think there's another magic circle in the area." I coughed and sputtered. "Wait, you're saying there's two of them?" He bit the tip of his pipe. "Yep."

I took another swig and capped the bottle. "So we need to find it then, right?" Jimm put his pipe away. "And do what?" I put the bottle in my bag and thought for a moment. "Well, we gotta...uh...oh darn, good point." He got up and spun his magnus. "Actually, you were onto something. I think the totems are key. Maybe if we remove them-" "...then we can stop the spawns," I finished. He nodded. "Yep. You get that one, and I'll find the other circle and deal with it."

I went over to the totem. Another Carnavon spawned, which I promptly destroyed with a spin charge. I picked up the totem and moved it behind a group of blocks. The circle didn't vanish, but at least it wasn't glowing anymore. Now, where was Jimm? I wandered the zone for a while, but was unable to spot him, so I shouted, "Jimm? Are you okay, dearest?" No response. "Jimm! This isn't funny, man!" Still no response. I rushed in the direction I last saw him, and my heart began to pound with anxiety.

I nearly ran headlong into a crowd of Carnavons, led by another Cursed Dreadnaught. One swiped at me and scratched my Silvermail. I stepped back and sliced off its head as I drew my sword. The Dreadnaught tried to charge at me, but couldn't get around the other zombs and impaled one instead. I twirled my sword and smashed two more zombies into the crowd, which toppled them like dominoes. As I stepped away to charge my sword, I heard a flurry of gunfire rip into the crowd. Jimm! "Darn you, Jimm! You scared the living daylights outta me!" He reloaded his Strike Needle and gave me a sad look. I was confused for a few moments, but then I realized that he had an odd dark aura around him.

He had been cursed.

"Jimm, stop! You're cursed, and you'll be hurt if you do anything!" I knew he knew that, but it made me feel better to tell him anyways. A zombie leaped at me and tackled me to the ground, then proceeded to bite away at my helmet. I kicked it off, only to be ganged-up by several more zombies. I flailed and struggled to free myself, unwilling to die but unable to prevent it.

Another torrent of needles ripped into the crowd. Some of them hit me, but I didn't care; I was just glad to be free of the zombie pile. I saw blood leaking from Jimm's eyes as he reloaded his needler. Tears were leaking from mine. I begged him, "Jimm, STOP, please!!" I couldn't stand to see him hurt so badly. I just wanted to cuddle him in my arms and nurse him back to health, but the renewed carnavon infestation was turning that into an unlikely future.

I put my arm around him, and we raced to the elevator together. I slammed the button and braced myself.

Nothing happened.

I slammed it again. Still no movement. I cursed and drew my carver. "Stay here, Jimm. Whatever you do, DON'T move." He nodded, and I charged into the zombie crowd. I let out a battle cry as I leaped into the air and brought down some cold iron punishment upon the dead. They swarmed me once again, but this time, I didn't care - I would do anything to protect Jimm. I absorbed and shrugged off bloody swipes to charge my sword, and unleashed it upon the unlucky bodies. Several zombies crumbled to the floor, and many more climbed over them to take their place. Blow by blow, I whittled down their numbers until only the Dreadnaught remained.

I spun my sword and waited for the dreadnaught to attack me, but it didn't. Instead, it charged into the elevator and impaled Jimm. I watched the life leave his eyes as he crumpled to the floor.

No words can describe how I felt at that moment. I think I screamed and cried for a few seconds, but I don't really remember.

I dispatched the dreadnaught easily enough.